‘I thought about it.’
‘What stopped you?’
‘Fear of losing Casey. In most divorce proceedings the mother gets custody. The father gets to visit. I wasn’t about to let that happen. I was totally in love with my daughter from the instant she was born, and I wanted her with me.’ McCabe rose from the window seat and went to the kitchen to pour himself another Scotch. He held up the bottle. ‘You want another?’
‘Not for me. I’m not sure you should have one either.’
‘I’m all right,’ he said. He poured the Scotch and returned to the window. ‘In the end, Sandy solved the problem for me. She started screwing around with some rich banker. Not her first affair, by the way. Just the first who asked her to marry him. She walked out and never looked back.’
‘Then you got Casey. The perfect solution, right?’
‘Not quite perfect. I assumed at the time that Sandy would want to see her daughter occasionally. Y’know, one day a week, one weekend a month, alternate school vacations, whatever.’
‘She didn’t?’
‘No. She didn’t. She hardly even bothered to call. She was always too busy shopping. Or getting a pedicure. Or whatever the hell else it is that Sandy does with her time. Casey was ten years old and in an emotionally fragile place, and here was her own mother telling her she didn’t care enough to take a cab across town or even pick up the phone to talk to her. I found that unforgivable at the time. I always will.’
‘Did you ever talk to Sandy about it?’
‘I tried. Maybe not hard enough, but I did try. Unfortunately, every conversation with Sandy ultimately ended up being about Sandy. How busy her new life was. How difficult it was adjusting to a new husband. Especially one who doesn’t want children. How she wasn’t sure she was ready emotionally to be a mother again. Sandy just went on and on. I can repeat each of those conversations verbatim. Each time it would get to a point where I couldn’t listen anymore and I’d slam down the phone in a rage. It would take me weeks to work up the energy to try again.’
‘There’s been no contact at all in three years?’
‘No. Just some expensive Christmas and birthday presents. The last one didn’t even come with a card. It just arrived. We figured it was from Sandy because we didn’t know anyone else who’d send her something from Tiffany’s.’ There was an edge in his voice again, the anger coming back like an old familiar friend.
McCabe walked to the kitchen to pour himself another Scotch. Then he decided not to. The last thing Casey needed if she wanted to talk about any of this was for him to be incoherent. He rinsed out the Waterford glass and put it on a high shelf where it wouldn’t get accidentally bashed. Then he sat down again by the window.
‘You know, when the job came up in Portland, I told people — myself included — living in a smaller city would be healthier for Casey. The job would be less demanding. I could spend more time being a father. It was all true, but I was also using distance to help Casey rationalize Sandy’s neglect. I figured being three hundred and fifty miles away might soften the impact of having a mother who didn’t care enough to ever find out how she was doing.’
‘Do you think it worked?’
‘Not really. When Casey showed me Sandy’s picture this morning, it was obvious having a mother was something she’s been thinking about. I asked her if she wanted to see Sandy again. She said no. Then she asked me if we were getting married. You and me. She wanted to know if that would make you her mother.’
‘What did you tell her?’
‘That we might be someday, but we weren’t there yet.’
‘That was the right answer.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. For now, anyway. Let me ask you something else. You might find this hurtful, and you can always tell me to shut up and mind my own business — but since you’re talking about us getting married, I guess it is my business. You just said moving away from Sandy, moving to Portland, was all for Casey’s benefit. Wasn’t it, at least a little, for yours as well?’
He wasn’t sure where this was going. ‘How so?’
‘After the divorce, wasn’t there some small part of you that rejoiced? Some small part that shouted, “Whoopee! I get the prize. I get to keep this beautiful little girl and Sandy doesn’t. I get all of Casey’s love and Sandy doesn’t get any”? By packing up and moving six hours away, weren’t you trying to make sure it stayed that way?’
‘No.’
‘No?’
‘No. Absolutely not.’ McCabe spoke quietly. ‘Am I glad Casey’s living with me and not with Sandy? Absolutely, but if you’re asking if I’m happy my thirteen-year-old daughter feels abandoned by her own mother and, as a result, more dependent on me, the answer is no. No way. Not then. Not now. Not ever.’
‘Okay, if that’s true and the answer really is no, shouldn’t you welcome Sandy’s efforts to reconnect? Seems to me Casey’s got a right to get to know her mother. You said yourself that might have been what she was asking to do when she showed you the picture. What an amazing coincidence it is that Sandy calls up the very same day. I realize, if they do see each other, it won’t make up for what’s already happened, but don’t you think it might be a start?’
McCabe stared into Kyra’s eyes and said nothing. Maybe she was right. She probably was. Yet, for now, there was still too much anger, too much hurt for him to admit it.
Finally Kyra stood up. ‘Okay. I’m going back to my own place now. Sarah’s mother said she’d bring Casey home. When she gets here, try not to react purely emotionally. Think hard about what you say about Sandy and how Casey should react to the idea of seeing her again. Think how it will affect your relationship with your daughter. Not just now but for a really long time.’ She leaned down and kissed McCabe on the lips. He barely noticed. Then she left.
McCabe dialed Sandy’s number in New York. She picked up on the second ring. He was a little surprised she was home on a Saturday night. ‘Hello, McCabe,’ she said. ‘I thought I might be hearing from you.’ She spoke in that smooth, throaty growl he knew so well and once found irresistible. Like a young Lauren Bacall leaning against the door in To Have and Have Not. ‘You know how to whistle, don’t you, Steve? You just put your lips together and blow.’
‘How are you, Sandy?’
‘I’m very well, thank you, and yourself?’
‘Couldn’t be better. Thank you for asking.’
‘What can I do for you, McCabe? I mean, now that we’ve established that we’re both feeling fine. We are feeling fine, aren’t we?’
‘Not entirely. I don’t think you should come up to Portland. At least not now. Casey doesn’t want to see you, and neither do I. Aside from anything else, I’m in the middle of a major murder case.’
‘I know. It even made the New York papers. Banner headlines in the News and Post. MURDER IN MAINE. TEENAGED GIRL RAPED AND MUTILATED. Quite Gothic. Your boss certainly has a way with words. I’m not sure Casey wouldn’t be safer here in Manhattan. All we have is your common garden-variety crazies.’
‘As I said, Casey doesn’t want to see you.’
‘Did she tell you that?’
‘She did, in fact. Even before you called.’
‘Well, we may have a problem with that, McCabe. In case you’ve forgotten, I am Casey’s mother, and I intend spending some time with my daughter before any more time passes.’
‘Your daughter? You have the brass to actually call her that after walking out because Daddy Big-Bucks didn’t want to “raise other people’s children.” That was the phrase, wasn’t it, Sandy? “Raise other people’s children.” You know me. I never forget a phrase — or anything else, for that matter.’
‘Let’s not let this get nasty, McCabe. As Casey’s mother I have a perfect right to see her and spend time with her. I don’t want to have to go to court to protect that right, but I will, and thanks to Peter — or Daddy Big-Bucks, as you so charmingly call him — I can afford the best lawyers in the business. So please let Casey know, if you don’t mind terribly, that I’ll be coming up Friday and taking her down to Boston for the weekend. She and I have a lot of catching up to do.’
McCabe hung up the phone, poured himself another Scotch, then poured it down the sink. He reached for the
